


Peace Process

by kethni



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M, Making Up, Sue POV, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent's presence is a constant irritant that Sue could well do without.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace Process

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlesdances, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (Kent POV alternative story currently cooking)

 

Sue looked over the top of her monitor. His office was opposite her desk. Every single time she looked up, she could see his door. It was an _issue_. The fact that it was so irritating, that it itched like something had burrowed under her skin, was infuriating. It didn’t help that his proximity seemed to lead certain people – idiots – to think that she was in some way responsible to him. They tried to give her things to pass on to him. They expected her to know where he was. As if she was in the least bit interested where he was.

Sue avoided entering his office and tended to ignore him where possible. That was why it took her a while to notice the… discrepancy. Kent would go into his office, she wouldn’t see him exit, but then he’d suddenly be somewhere else. It was a mildly aggravating conundrum that she only solved because of the staffer. _That_ staffer, the one with the short skirts and the long hair. The one who looked at Kent as if she were a particularly adoring puppy. _That_ staffer walked right past Sue, over to his door, and reached for the handle.

‘Mr Davison is in a late meeting,’ Sue said. ‘He won’t be back. ’

‘I know,’ she said without a _trace_ of either respect or deference. She might as well have been talking to one of her little friends. ‘He told me to drop this report in his in-tray.’

‘You can give that to me.’ Sue held out her hand.

The staffer was ignorant or a fool. She barely reacted to the order. ‘Mr Davison told me to put it in his tray in his office,’ she said.

‘And I told you to give it to me.’

The staffer frowned slightly. ‘You don’t work for Mr Davison.’

Sue picked up her phone. ‘If you insist on being a child then we will call him.’ She expected the staffer to back down. She was wrong.

‘That seems like a good idea,’ the staffer said. ‘You should do that.’

As the phone rang, the staffer opened the office door and slipped inside. Sue slammed down the phone, got to her feet, and marched over to the door. She wrenched it open, intending to tear a strip off the younger woman.

She wasn’t there. Sue had avoided entering his office before and was momentarily distracted by the lack of staffer and the overabundance of marine paraphernalia. His office was ridiculous. She’d seen larger bathroom cubicles. It was ridiculous that he had not only wedged in a desk, an inappropriate chair, and a printer but his microwave, a kettle, and a small refrigerator. Was he living in there? The room was certainly decorated like Popeye’s wet dream. All he needed was a damn steering wheel. Wait, no, ship’s wheel. He’d been mortally offended when she’d once referred to a ship as having a steering wheel. She’d like to mount a toy one to the edge of his desk the way toddlers use toy steering wheels to pretend to drive.

It was just enough to blind her, for a half second, from the second door. Sue put her hands on her hips as she stared at the door. Two doors. That was just typical of the man.

***

He had taken to wishing Sarah, her assistant, a good morning. He was only doing it to annoy Sue, she knew. Everything he did grated at her nerves. He did it on purpose.

‘Don’t encourage him,’ she said to Sarah, after the other woman misguidedly offered Kent a candy.

Sarah’s eyes flickered to his office door but Sue didn’t care if he heard them. She hoped he would. ‘It was just a candy,’ Sarah said. ‘He gave me some painkillers last week when I those terrible cramps.’

Sue looked at her silently.

‘He was friendly so I was friendly,’ Sarah said.

‘People are friendly,’ Sue said. ‘The socially maladjusted flail desperately at normal people like drowning victims dragging life guards under the water with them.’

Sarah lowered her voice. ‘I feel a bit sorry for him.’

‘You should stop that.’

‘He seems really lonely. I talked to him about weekend plans and he said he’s going to an art gallery because he enjoys the “bustle” of people around.’

Sue shook her head. ‘You know who else are lonely and enjoy people around? Mass shooters.’

She knew that Kent had little appreciation for art. Sue had taken him to several exhibitions and he had been either politely perplexed or diplomatically disinterested. That he was apparently hanging around galleries to be near other people struck her as pathetic rather than sympathetic.

There was something about the way he said her name that felt like nails on a chalkboard. The tone was unimportant. It didn’t matter if he used her first name or her full title. That wasn’t why she slapped his hand, but it contributed. It was a perfect storm of irritations: someone else’s train wreck, everyone panicking, Kent calling her by name, and then, to pour lemon juice into the cut, he stood in her personal space and tried to type on her keyboard.

She could smell the conditioning oil he used on his beard. She could hear the fetch and carry of his breath, the way it hitched just slightly when he was surprised.

‘Go away,’ she said to him. ‘Go away or I will report you for sexual harassment.’

She wasn’t certain which was worse, that his initial response was bafflement at the idea of her being harassed or that his secondary response was amusement.

She was laughable. That’s what he meant. The idea of wanting her was a joke.

After a second, his expression changed completely. He reached out to touch her shoulder. ‘Sue. That was… I’m sorr –’

Whatever he was going to say was obliterated when everyone came running with the supposedly amended copy.

***

When they had been dating if she had a bad day then he took her out for a drink. Now she sat working while Mike, Ben, Jim, and Kent snuck off to Ben’s office to drink scotch and do whatever it was that late middle-aged white men did alone together. Talk about sports and complain about women, presumably. Amy didn’t know about Friday night drinks. Nor did Selina. Sue was tempted to tell them. But she could wait for a more impactful moment. It was all about timing.

At the moment, in the swirling maelstrom of the state dinner, it was far too chaotic. Throwing a pebble into a still pool was satisfying. Throwing a brick into tsunami was simply a waste of effort. What wasn’t a waste of effort was all the male staffers in their tuxedos. Even Ben looked dapper. Well, not Gary. His unique ability to mismatch suits, shirts, and ties should have been neutralised by a tuxedo, but he had the physical bearing of a man in tattered pyjamas.

‘You’re staring,’ Amy said. She was chewing her thumb as Sue was catching up on her emails.

‘I am not.’

Amy tilted to look through the doorway to follow Sue’s eye line. She rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Sue. Haven’t you seen enough of Kent ass without staring at it?’

Sue fixed her with a glare. ‘I was doing no such thing.’

Amy shook her head. ‘What do you even see in him?’

‘Nothing,’ Sue said firmly.

‘Because D.C. is _lousy_ with older guys in politics.’ Amy waved her hand vaguely. ‘Even weird ones.’ She looked out the doorway again. ‘Not that many with beards. Is it the beard, Sue? Because I heard that the dipshit hipster assholes are all wearing beards and flannel now and calling it lumbersexual.’

Sue rolled her eyes. ‘You are not as funny as you imagine.’

Amy folded her arms. ‘But I think that a lot of them wear buns. Why the hell are “manbuns” a thing?’

Selina paused in the doorway. ‘Well this sounds like a conversation doomed to end up in a sexual harassment case. Whose buns are you looking at, Amy?’

‘I was talking about hair buns, Ma’am,’ she said quickly.

‘Sue was talking about Mr Davison’s… or maybe not, I probably wasn’t listening properly.’ Richard smiled sheepishly. ‘I was standing over there.’

‘Oh my God!’ Amy slapped her folder down onto the desk. ‘Don’t lurk about in corners listening.’

‘Sorry,’ Richard said. ‘Didn’t like to interrupt the girl talk about lumbersexuals, and beards, and Mr Davison’s buns.’

Selina opened and closed her mouth. ‘Okay, that’s enough from you. Shoo!’

‘ _Amy_ was talking about those things,’ Sue said. ‘I was attempting to work.’

 ‘Whatcha doin’ here Amy?’ Selina asked. ‘Can’t get campaign staff peanut butter in my state dinner chocolate.’

‘Just had some stuff to clear with Sue.’ Amy held up her hands. ‘Won’t be setting foot near the dinner.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Selina adjusted her dress. ‘What the fuck was he babbling about Kent’s ass?’

***

There was a shirt. It was a soft ecru and had a very fine check pattern that was only visible from a few feet away. She couldn’t remember how it had ended up being left at her apartment. Kent had asked for it back and she had told him she didn’t have it. It had lurked in her wardrobe for a few weeks like Banquo at the feast. Eventually, in the middle of one of those nights when the world seemed a miserable and frightening place, she had huddled in the bed wearing it. Now it was folded up under the pillow easily accessible during the night and where, during the day, she could pretend it didn’t exist.

Sue arrived early one morning, and was just sitting down to coffee and a small plain yoghurt when she heard voices inside Kent’s office. She checked her watch. It wasn’t unknown for Kent to start early and it wasn’t unknown for Jim, or sometimes Dan, to work all night, but this sounded like a female. Sue took a sip of her coffee as she watched the door. She didn’t believe for a moment that it was Selina. She never appeared before eight and she doubted it was Amy; the tone was nowhere near querulous enough. Besides Amy was out on the campaign. Having spent so much time lusting for the job of campaign manager Amy had found it began to pall as soon as Selina became president.

By the time that his door opened, Sue was up to her ears in the fine details of the upcoming Middle East tour. She liked to begin her day early because it was the only time she wasn’t beset on all sides. Sarah was a competent enough assistant, for all her poor judgement of men, but she wasn’t Sue. What Sue needed was a couple of clones of herself to work in the office, and one to work for each of the major world powers. Then the world could be organised _efficiently_. The biggest obstacle in politics, in Sue’s experience, was politicians. Closely followed by the public.

‘Thank you for your help.’

‘My door is always open.’

Sue looked up. It was that staffer again. She had absolutely no reason to be in the White House at this time of the morning. It was unconscionable of Kent to encourage her to do so. He should know better.

The staffer clopped past on completely inappropriate shoes. Sue watched her go. Somehow, she still managed to be better dressed than Catherine, who had almost Gary’s knack for mismatched patterns. Sue occasionally wondered if Catherine deliberately chose to wear clashing, dowdy clothes, and drab makeup to annoy her mother. If so then it certainly worked.

***

There had never been any shortage of panics, fuck ups, and outright disasters around Selina, so Sue recognised the signs easily and quickly. It was more uncommon for a sacrificial lamb to be needed. Sue was not some happy clappy believer in girl power; however, the automatic assumption that the scapegoat would be a female staffer did not please.

‘What’s your problem?’ she asked Kent as he stamped out of his office. Admittedly, Kent’s stamping would in no way trouble the Richter scale. She recognised it more by his gait than by the sound or force. She had no pride in being able to identify his emotional state purely from his body language. She had no desire to be reminded of how close she had allowed herself to grow to him.

‘No problem,’ he said.

‘Sounds like it.’

He looked at her. She knew the look. It was one occasionally common to them both: the look of someone attempting to navigate the tricky waters of admitting feeling something.

‘Sarah, fetch some coffee,’ Sue suggested.

The other woman blinked in surprise. ‘Oh, okay.’

Kent watched her hurry away before turning back to Sue. ‘Dan has found an innocent staffer to scapegoat.’

‘And?’

He started to say something and then shook his head. ‘Never mind.’

Sue sighed heavily. ‘Good conversation.’

***

It was moments like this that made Sue double-check her exit strategies. Should the day come that she was considered a suitable scapegoat, they would find that she had sufficient knowledge and hard evidence to make it a _very_ painful prospect for everyone else. Sue considered herself an excellent judge of character. As she watched the staffer, whose name turned out to be Leigh, walk away, she knew that the younger woman was not going to go quietly. She wondered if that had occurred to anyone. Probably not. To people like Dan and Bill Ericsson, other people only existed as obstacles to be overcome or opportunities to be exploited. They would have forgotten that the girl existed as soon as she left their line of sight.

‘I heard that he asked the president not to fire her,’ Sarah said quietly.

Sue raised an eyebrow as she looked at the other woman. ‘What?’

Sarah nodded at Kent’s closed door. ‘Gary told me.’

‘If you’re going to tell me gossip then _tell me_ gossip.’ She opened her bottle of water and took a sip. ‘Particularly if it involves Kent.’

‘Okay, so, Kent argued against firing her. He said that she was like a great staffer and that he saw himself in her.’

Sue blinked. ‘He said he saw himself in her.’

‘But not like that.’

‘I certainly hope not.’ Sue narrowed her eyes. ‘Are people thinking otherwise?’

Sarah answered the phone briefly. Sue waited until she returned her attention to the conversation. ‘I don’t think that people think that it’s like _that_. It’s not like he’s Jonah or something.’

Sue knew that Sarah meant was, it’s not as if anyone expects Kent to display a normal sex drive, let alone any other kind of passion. He was a robot. A robot who had been going to say something to her about the fact that his favourite staffer was being unfairly blamed. And then Sue snapped at him and he changed his mind.

Shit.

Sue didn’t like to swear. Nonetheless, there were times when it was justified.

She stood up and marched across to his door, knocking on it a moment before she opened it.

‘Whatever it is, I don’t have time,’ he said, without looking up from his laptop.

Sue closed the door behind her. ‘You need more staff.’

‘The issue is the quality, not the quantity.’ Kent looked up and then sat back in his chair. ‘To what do I owe this uncommon pleasure?’

‘You wanted to talk.’ Sue tapped her foot when he looked blank. ‘Earlier you wanted to discuss the firing of the staffer.’

‘Her name is Leigh.’

Sue nodded. ‘I know that.’

Kent threw his pen down. ‘I’m glad someone does.’

Sue folded her arms. ‘You liked her and she’s gone. You need to suck it up before people start to get the wrong impression.’

‘I’m going to pretend that I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

Sue stepped forward and sat down in his guest chair. She crossed her legs at the knee. ‘This is D.C. Your paternal feelings can and will be misinterpreted and used against you.’

Kent’s mouth twisted in disgust as he looked away. ‘Was it necessary to make me feel quite so… contaminated?’

‘Kent, you’re not a child. You know this is how the world works. I’m telling you this as your…’  

He raised his eyebrows. ‘As my what?’

Sue narrowed her eyes at him. ‘As your co-worker.’

‘Oh. As my _co-worker_.’ He waved his hand. ‘How gracious of you to extend such care to your co-workers. I can’t think how I failed to notice it before.’

Sue gave a small sigh. ‘Fine. As your friend.’

Kent tapped his fingers on the desk. Sue tried to ignore them. Fidgeting was always his tell.

‘Is that we are, friends?’ he asked more quietly.

Sue pushed her bangs away from her eyes. ‘I know that you’re aware of the concept even if don’t have any personal experience of it.’

‘That was one of those things that you pretend to believe are amusing but that we both know are actually quite hurtful.’

Sue pursed her lips. ‘Sorry.’

She thought, from the slight twitch of his lips, that he might exploit her moment of weakness in apologising. Instead, he lent forward.

‘Coffee?’

‘Do you have pastries?’

He held up his hands in supplication. ‘Wouldn’t dream of offering you coffee without.’

There was a little ritual to the way he made coffee, as there was a little ritual to most things that he did. She had heard Selina sarcastically refer to him as autistic. That was neither fair nor accurate but Selina’s conception of Kent didn’t allow for anything more precise.

Sue nibbled her bear claw as Kent took a bite of his strawberry tart.

‘How’s your mom?’ she asked. It was an awkward conversational gambit but he wasn’t socially skilled enough for it to be an issue.

He covered his mouth and swallowed his food before he answered. He chose the oddest moments to be courteous. ‘Good, she’s good. She’s on a cruise in the Caribbean at the moment.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘She told Emilia that she’s looking for a toy boy.’

 Sue allowed herself a small smile. ‘I can see that.’

‘And, uh, your mom. How is Abigail dealing with the physiotherapy?’

‘Driving her home nurse to distraction,’ Sue admitted. ‘She’s recovering well.’

Kent took a sip of his coffee. ‘Hip replacement has always seemed like an intensive undertaking when the patients are, almost without exception, elderly and frail.’

Sue licked fragments of pastry from her fingers. ‘I dare you to tell my mother that she’s frail.’

‘Hmm?’

She knew it wasn’t fair and she didn’t care. It wasn’t her fault that there were certain actions that always seemed to short circuit his brain.

 ‘Never mind.’ Sue straightened her blouse. ‘Is the situation as desperate as everyone seems to believe?’

Kent shrugged. ‘Yes.’

‘Do I want to know the details?’

‘No.’ He tidied up his desk. ‘What you don’t know you can’t testify about.’

Sue rolled her eyes and stood up. ‘I sincerely hope it won’t come to that.’

***

Amy was twitchy. Never a relaxed woman, the mere presence of Bill Ericsson appeared to be driving her into panic. Sue let her mind drift as Amy ranted. It was rare that Sue had the time to go out for lunch and she had no intention of allowing it to be spoiled by the other woman’s vitriol. Even Dan’s sacking didn’t seem to have much varied Amy’s favourite topic of conversation.

‘So, what’s happening with you?’ Amy asked when she ran out things to say. ‘Must be a massive pain in the ass having Kent fucking on top of you all day.’

‘Phrasing, Amy.’

‘What? Oh. Ew.’ Amy shuddered. ‘You know what I meant.’

Sue took a sip of her wine. It was an indulgence to drink at lunch, but it was only one and she felt it was close to a necessity. ‘We have reached something of a detente.’

‘I remember when Dan came to work for Selina.’ Amy shook her head. ‘And we only went out on like three dates.’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘Kent is nothing like Dan.’

‘Don’t be so fucking sure. I can totally see Kent going out with a woman purely to use her to get ahead.’

‘No. That requires charm and charisma.’ Sue took another sip. ‘Also detachment.’

Amy swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘Are you saying Robbie the Robot _isn’t_ detached?’

‘Not when he’s seeing someone.’ Sue paused for a moment. ‘Anything but.’

***

‘Cupcake?’ Sarah said, holding a box out to Sue as she returned from the Oval Office.

Sue selected a lemon curd cupcake and sat down. ‘Thank you.’

‘Mr Davison just gave me them.’ Sarah flushed a little at Sue’s expression. ‘For my birthday.’

Sue regarded the cupcake. ‘I see.’

‘He said the lemon ones were your favourite.’

‘What?’

Sarah had taken a bite of her double chocolate chunk cupcake. When she finished she dabbed away crumbs with a tissue. ‘Mr Davison said that the lemon ones were your favourite.’ She smiled slightly. ‘I think he wanted to make sure that I saved them for you.’

It was an oddly pleasing thought. Not enough to cover the sting of him buying Sarah cupcakes, but enough to soften her irritation into a couple of ironic comments when they were watching Ericsson at the press conference. Kent didn’t share Amy’s paranoia about Ericsson and, if anything, was greatly enjoying having the run of the White House without Ben’s presence. With Amy returning to campaign headquarters, the entire place was rather blissfully quiet.

It wouldn’t last of course. The convention was coming up. Sue had hotel rooms and mass transport to organise. On impulse, she had herself assigned to the corner room next to Kent’s. It was a whim, of course, and like all whims entirely capricious. It didn’t have any deeper meaning. She certainly wasn’t intending to see if he took anyone back to his room. Just because he had been flirting with Sarah didn’t mean that he was prowling around for a bedmate.

Actually, Sue had been ready to go to bed at least two dates earlier than he had. Fortunately, by that point, she realised that his romantic tardiness was due more to a surfeit of trepidation than a lack of zeal. In her experience, it was a common complaint among highly intelligent men. Women could multitask social and intellectual development while men seemed only able to master one. Not that charm was high on Sue’s list of desirable traits in a partner. Charm was a spoonful of sugar: a trick to make something unpleasant momentarily more palatable. No, she preferred the rougher texture of the emotionally repressed and socially clumsy. It was far more trustworthy.

***

‘You owe Sarah an apology,’ Sue said, as Kent returned to his office.

‘Oh!’ Sarah said, ‘I…No, you don’t need to…’

‘Yes, he does,’ Sue said flatly, watching him.

He looked from one to the other. ‘Do I get a clue?’

‘Before,’ Sue said. ‘You were unconscionably rude.’

Sarah was red-faced, shaking her head, and failing to form coherent words.

Kent put his hand on his hips. ‘I was rude?’

‘Yes. You told her to get out of her own workplace.’

He narrowed his eyes, glanced at Sarah, and then back at Sue. ‘You want me to apologise?’

‘I believe that’s what I said.’

Kent clucked his tongue. ‘To _Sarah_? That’s who you want me to grovel to?’

‘Oh God,’ Sarah muttered.

Sue felt her shoulders tense. ‘I believe that is what I said.’

‘Huh.’ Kent turned on his heel, walked around the desk, and whispered into Sarah’s ear. Then he stalked towards his office, but paused in the doorway and turned back to Sue. ‘When should I expect my apology from you?’

‘I will schedule it for the third Wednesday after never.’

He nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

Damn the man.

***

As they all gathered to welcome Selina back from her Middle Eastern tour, watching her brand new advisor manage to patronise and aggravate everyone in the room, Kent edged up to Sue.  

She gave him a look.

‘Have you spoken to Amy today?’ he murmured.

‘I have not.’ Sue took in his rigid shoulders. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘She seems… stressed.’

‘If Amy wasn’t stressed then she wouldn’t be Amy.’

Kent acknowledged it with a shrug. ‘Nonetheless.’

Sue watched as Amy gabbled through a briefing with Selina. Then she looked back at Kent. ‘You may have a point. Why is it my problem?’

‘Granted my knowledge of friendship may be purely _conceptual_ but I do think that your being her friend would nominate you for the task.’

‘The task of stopping Amy being stressed is not one to be assigned to a single woman,’ Sue said. ‘Not even me.’

Kent clucked his tongue. ‘Is this the great Sue Wilson admitting defeat?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

***

Kent was fidgeting, playing with his fingers, pretending to look at his papers. Anything but look at Amy. Although he usually shot back when fired upon, Sue had seen him once or twice act the same way when she was particularly upset. Not necessarily angry. He wasn’t bothered by anger. He wasn’t looking at Amy for the same reason that Sue wasn’t: because neither of them could deal with distress.

There was a sudden, crushing silence when Amy crashed out of the room. Sue caught Kent’s eye and he nodded towards the door. Sue shook her head. He frowned.

‘No,’ Sue whispered but the sound carried in the hushed room.

‘No?’ Selina demanded. ‘No, what? What the fuck are you whispering about?’

Sue cut her eyes at him. He shrugged meekly.

‘Mr Davison suggested that I go and speak to Amy,’ she said.

‘No he didn’t,’ Gary protested. ‘He didn’t say anything.’

‘Jesus, Gary,’ Ben said. ‘She didn’t say he spoke. You’re not the only person on the planet who understand signs and signals and nods and winks all that shit.’

‘Okay,’ Gary muttered, ‘that was harsh.’

Selina rubbed her forehead. ‘Maybe you should do that, Sue.’

Sue could have hit Kent with a whole book of his damn graphs. But she had a better idea. ‘Ma’am, I’m not good with the psychologically fragile. Or any fragility, actually. Mr Davison is clearly better suited for the job.’

‘Me?’

‘Him?’ Ben echoed.

Sue shrugged. ‘You’re the one who noticed she was beginning to unravel.’

‘When was this?’ Selina asked.

‘While you were on your Middle East tour, Mr Davison told me privately that he thought Amy was stressed, isn’t that right?’

‘That wasn’t stress,’ Gary said. ‘That was crazy.’

Selina dropped her hand through the air. ‘Hold-up. Did you say that, Kent?’

He licked his lips. ‘Ma’am, I thought perhaps that Sue might suggest some relaxing event that would help Amy relieve her tension.’

Selina shook her head. ‘Really? Because it seems like you saying someone is "stressed" is like me calling them cuckoo fucking bananas.’ She waved a hand. ‘Go talk to her. Make sure she doesn’t blow any shit up.’

‘Ma’am, I scarcely think I’m the correct person for the job,’ he protested.

‘Well apparently you’re the only person who noticed she was out of her tree,’ Ben said.

‘Only because she threw me up against a wall.’

‘What?’ Mike asked.

‘Never mind.’ Kent stood and walked to the door. ‘I’m going.’

The door banged shut behind him.

‘Did he say she threw him against a wall?’ Gary asked.

‘I’d watch a tape of that on a fucking loop,’ Ben said.

Karen shook her head. ‘Angry, angry young woman.’

 ‘But Amy is half his size! Gary said.

‘Yeah, and he does all that Pilates and gym stuff,’ Mike said.

‘It’s really not that complicated,’ Sue said. She sighed when they all looked at her. ‘In certain, very specific respects, Mr Davison is somewhat old-fashioned. To the point where an unscrupulous woman could easily take advantage.’

‘Huh?’ Selina asked.

Ben took a sip of his coffee. ‘You mean he wouldn’t hit a woman.’

‘Under no circumstances whatsoever,’ Sue said.

Selina snorted. ‘I’ve got remember that.’

‘That would be unscrupulous, Ma’am,’ Sue said.

‘Well, you’re no fucking fun.’

***

Hysterical would be Sue’s assessment of the mood in Selina’s suite, and not in a good way. She left as soon as it seemed polite and returned to her room. Tom James had been looking like he’d wondered what he’d got himself into. Sue wondered if Amy had already departed the hotel or was making a last assault on the mini bar. First Jim. Then Leigh and Dan. Now Amy. At this rate there would be nobody left by the election.

She was in her pyjamas when she heard the familiar knock. She pulled on her gown and padded over to the door.

‘What do you want, Kent?’

‘Opening the door would be good.’

He slightly but noticeably slurred the ds in "would "and "good." Hmm.

‘I’ve taken off my make-up,’ she said.

‘That’s okay, I’m not wearing any either.’

Definitely drunk. She’d noticed him enjoying the champagne but hadn’t realised quite the extent.

Sue opened the door and looked at him. He held up two drinks from the lobby vending machine.

‘I don’t want coffee before I go to sleep.’

‘Hot chocolate,’ he said.

Sue opened the door just a little more. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘Only enough to be fun.’

‘God knows you need the help.’ Sue took one of the cups from him. ‘Come in. Close the door. Take your jacket and shoes off. Leave your other clothes on. We will not be having sex.’

‘Copy that.’ He saluted with his cup.

Sue sat cross-legged on the bed. ‘And no caressing my back, stroking my hands, or putting your head in my lap. You’re far too… cuddly when you’re drunk.’

He lay down on the bed with the cup on the bedside cabinet. ‘It’s the only time it doesn’t make me jittery.’

Sue put that aside to think about at some other time. ‘And absolutely no nuzzling my neck.’

That made him smile. ‘You like having your neck kissed. You make all the best little noises.’

‘Shut up.’ She took a sip of her hot chocolate. ‘If you ever tell anyone that I’ll break your arm.’

‘What about looking, can I do that?’

‘If you have to.’ Sue looked away from his gaze. His expression made her uncomfortable. ‘Your drink is going to grow cold.’ She patted his leg. ‘Sit up and drink it.’

‘Okay, mom.’

She hit him with a pillow. He backed up against the headboard.

‘Desist, minx,’ he growled.

‘Maybe I should be punished.’

He threw his head back. ‘Not this again.’

‘You could at least have the decency to discuss it.’

Kent shook his head as he looked at her. ‘I’m not saying it’s... I know it’s my hang up.’  

‘That you won’t consider dealing with.’

He fiddled with his cup. ‘Why’re we talking about this? You terminated our relationship. With extreme prejudice.’

‘Why’re you here in my hotel room?’

Kent undid his tie. ‘Do you think there’s one person who’s right for you?’

‘No. That’s romantic, muddle headed nonsense.’ She regretted it as soon as the words passed her lips. It was going to ruin the mood.

‘I don’t mean...’ He waved his hand. ‘I don’t mean all that soul-mate one true love stuff.’

Sue moved a little closer. ‘What do you mean?’

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Basic economics. Supply and demand. Beautiful, charismatic, funny people have all the choices. They’re in demand.’

Sue frowned slightly. ‘Don’t conflate romantic choice with economics.’

‘Some people have all stuff in here,’ he said, rubbing his chest. ‘But it’s all locked in tight and they don’t have the key.’ He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. ‘They can see everyone else, hear everything they say, but it’s as if they’re on the other side of glass. When they try to speak up all that comes out is this… gabble of nonsense.’

‘Kent, you’re not making any sense.’

He lay down on top of the covers and closed his eyes. ‘See,’ he murmured. ‘That’s what I’m saying.’

Shit. She shouldn’t have ruled out cuddling or whatever it was he’d had in mind when he came knocking at her door.

 

***

‘Hey, Sue.’

‘Drop dead.’

‘Seriously, you should wake up and see this.’

Sue opened her eyes and stared at darkness. ‘Kent, if you have woken me at... four-thirteen because you can’t find the key to your own room-’

She felt him take her hand.

‘We’re going to miss it.’

He led her out on to the balcony and draped a blanket around her shoulders. Sue looked up. Fire was scudding across the night sky. Meteorites were flaming as they passed through the atmosphere, visible for a few seconds before they vanished from view.

She didn’t look at him, but she did slip her arm through his.

‘Not quite camping,’ Kent said sheepishly.

‘You remembered.’ Sue kept her gaze upward. When she was a girl, she used to go camping with her grandfather. On nights like this, they’d lay for hours watching the universe.

‘You never accused me of having a deficient memory.’

‘You sound sober,’ Sue said suspiciously.

‘I’m not. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope.’

The meteorite shower ended. Sue looked at Kent. ‘Why did you come to my room?’

‘I got the rooms confused.’

Sue nudged him gently. ‘I’m supposed to believe you knock on your own hotel door?’

He was silently for a thoughtful moment. ‘I was _quite_ drunk.’

‘It’s not too late for me to kick you out.’

He shrugged. ‘I just wanted to see you.’

‘You’ve seen me all day,’ she said quietly.

‘It wasn’t enough.’ Kent looked at her. ‘There are days when standing near you just makes me miss you more.’

Sue brushed a stray hair from his face. ‘Are you saying this because you’re still a little drunk?’

‘I’m not saying anything drunk I haven’t thought sober.’

‘How drunk are you? On a scale of slightly affectionate to completely unconscious.’

It took him a few seconds to work it out. ‘Moderately affectionate? Shall I be allowed to nuzzle your neck?’

‘No.’

‘Darn.’

‘It’s too late for anything like that.’ She towed him back into the bedroom. ‘Now take off your pants and get under the covers.’

‘Promotion to the big leagues,’ he said, swaying slightly.

‘Do you want to cuddle in bed or not?’

There was a pause for a moment.

‘I truly do.’

‘Good, she kissed his cheek. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’


End file.
